


Your Princess Is In Another Castle, Idiota!

by psycholinguist (orphan_account)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, there's a lot of characters and i don't feel like listing all of them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 19:05:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5303225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/psycholinguist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Romina botches one too many engagements, leading her father to resort to drastic measures. He invites all the eligible bachelors (the ones that haven't met Romina yet) to stay at their castle and try to win over his daughters. Romina refuses to make it easy for either the suitors or her father and resolves to act as unappealing as possible. Who can handle such a hot-tempered girl? Romina hopes no one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Princess Is In Another Castle, Idiota!

**Author's Note:**

> original A/N: So I posted this on tumblr first then thought to post it here too, so here ya go!~
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia
> 
> summary: Romina botches one too many engagements, leading her father to resort to drastic measures. He invites all the eligible bachelors (the ones that haven't met Romina yet) to stay at their castle and try to win over his daughters. Romina refuses to make it easy for either the suitors or her father and resolves to act as unappealing as possible. Who can handle such a hot-tempered girl? Romina hopes no one.
> 
> and now without further ado...

* * *

The sound of the quill scratching against parchment sounded loud in the lonely study, and a dark-haired young man sat behind his desk, humming to himself to keep the quietness at bay. Soon he was lost in his thoughts, silently regaling his most recent failed romantic venture to his closest friend, whom he was sure would chastise him for his lack of “l’amour” and sensitivity. The brunet exhaled in amusement, as he pictured his blond French friend getting overly excited, as he was wont to do about the subject of love, before he grimaced at the realization that he would have to sit through that particular speech again. So deep in his inner struggle to come up with a good excuse to pacify his romance-obsessed friend, the young man did not hear one of the guards knock on the heavy door to his study.

“My Lord,” said the guard, his voice slightly muffled by the big heavy door of the study.

“Enter,” spoke the young man rather lazily. He shook his head lightly, clearing his head of imaginary arguments. He put down his quill and folded his hands on the desk as the lone guard entered the expansive room and bowed low. The young man rolled his eyes. He hated formalities.

“You may rise. State your business,” said the youth smiling good-naturedly, his voice hoarse from keeping silent all morning. He cleared his throat as soundlessly as he could manage while the guard straightened and began to speak.

“The Queen wishes to see you, Your Majesty,” announced the guard.

The youth glanced at the half-finished letter on the desk and back at the guard. He pursed his lips before sighing and putting his parchment, ink, and quill away. He would have to finish that letter later.

“Did she say what she needed me for?” asked the brunet boy somewhat distractedly. He stoppered up a half-empty bottle of ink and stood up from his chair before turning his full attention to the grizzled, old guard.

“No, Your Highness, she did not specify. She merely requested I bring you to her chambers,” spoke the gray-haired guard as the guards on the outside of the doorway saluted their prince.

The dark-haired royal rolled his eyes again, as they began to leave his study.

“How many times have I asked you to call me ‘Antonio’?” spoke the prince exasperatedly. He was walking rather quickly to match the old guard’s pace, “I do not mind you addressing me by my many titles when we are amongst other royals or my mother, but when it is just me I would very much prefer you call me ‘Antonio’, or even ‘Toni’.”

“Yes, Your Maj—er, Antonio, sir.”

They made their way through the large castle’s many corridors in companionable silence until they reached the Queen’s chambers. The guards stationed at the doorway saluted the prince; and the guard with whom the young prince had been walking knocked thrice on the great oak doors. Antonio fidgeted nervously. What could his mother have summoned him for now? If it was about that failed engagement again, he was sure he was going to scream. It was not his fault—his worrying was cut short as a loud but somewhat distorted “Enter!” was heard through the thick door.

The guard opened the door and gestured for the reluctant royal to step inside. Antonio sighed, if this was going to be like any of the last million times he had talked with his beloved mama, he would better act innocent and definitely turn up the charm…

He stepped inside the grand room and the door shut behind him, leaving him alone with his mother; he inched his way into the room. Her hands were held behind her as she gazed at an impressive tapestry of the Carriedo lineage. His smile wavered. Already this was looking bad. He cleared his throat meekly, hoping to get this over with as quickly as possible. His mother turned slowly, her eyes a bit unfocused as she tore her eyes away from the large colorful artwork; she had a blank look on her face, one Antonio recognized before receiving important news. He braced himself for the worst.

“Ah, Antonio, my son”, she began pleasantly as she smoothed out the front of her ivory and yellow gown, “yes, I needed to talk to you my boy.”

“Yes, I gathered that, Mama”, he said respectfully, a big smile once again plastered on his face, “may I ask what about?”

“Well, since your failed engagement—” her beloved son interrupted her with a long, annoyed groan but she plowed through, ignoring the look he was giving her, instead giving him one of her own that made him cast his eyes downward “with that lovely Belgian princess, I worried that the whole of Europe would know of your complete lack of passion, and the Carriedo lineage would stop with you”, she clutched her chest dramatically, and Antonio shook his head, a bit embarrassed by his mother’s theatrics, “however, there seems to be an eligible princess available in Italy.”

“Look, they’ve even sent a portrait”, she gestured to a large oil painting in an ornate frame he had not noticed when he had walked in, “isn’t she a beauty?”

The portrait featured a very pretty, olive-skinned girl in a red gown, trimmed with white and gold. She had hazel eyes that looked bored—though Antonio chalked it up to her being painted; he had stood for enough of these portraits to understand her displeasure—and her long, brown hair hung in a plait down her left side, ending in a white ribbon. She had a lock of hair that curled to the right and seemed to defy gravity; he felt the strangest urge to push it back for some reason, though he knew it was just a painting. He stared a bit more before his mother cleared her throat loudly, startling him.

“I take it you like her?” his mother asked amusedly.

Antonio blushed and scratched his forehead. It was not often he liked a girl from her portrait, yet something about this girl intrigued him. Or maybe it was that rebellious curl he still itched to smooth over.

“Well?” she asked again rather smugly. She was grateful she had received such a good response from her passionless son.

“Why?” asked the young prince slowly, something was going on, and he wanted to know before he gave his answer.

“Just tell me, do you like her, yes or no?” asked the queen impatiently, she was bursting to announce the big news she had received from the king of Italy.

“She’s very pretty, but I can’t tell you if I like her or not if I’ve not met her…” he trailed off, noticing the characteristic sparkle in his mother’s eyes that betrayed her excitement despite her aloof attitude.

“You’re very right”, she said as she fought a grin off her face, “and I’m glad you agree. Now, before I tell you the big news, how’s your Italian coming along?”

“Er, good I suppose”, Antonio offered confusedly. He was caught off guard by the seemingly random question, “Mr. Di Angelo says I can hold my own in a conversation now and almost exclusively talks in Italian with me now. Why?”

His mother seemed to be fighting with the impulse to giggle, which didn’t faze him; his mother was always terrible at hiding her emotions.

“You’re going to Italy for a few months to meet this princess!” she exclaimed excitedly, shattering her strict monarch image in one fell exclamation, “And you had better not mess this one up, you hear?” She looked at him sternly before finally explaining the sudden visit.

“King Romulus of Italy has invited the eligible princes and lords to go and court his eldest daughter who is now of marriageable age—though why he’s gone to so much trouble is beyond me. She seems like a lovely girl.” mused his mother before continuing, “And seeing as your terrible track record with romance does not seem to deter King Romulus, I have already accepted his invitation on your behalf.”

“Thank goodness you took a liking to her”, she continued, taking his horrified silence for approval, “otherwise this would have been a bit of a problem, and just imagine what sort of influence we’d have if you married a princess with such power~” she continued ranting about how this would be a good thing for their kingdom while the news sunk in.

Antonio continued gaping. He could not believe what his mother was saying. She already agreed to it? Without asking him first? He felt nauseous. She may be the queen, but she was still his mother! Family came before political relations, right?

“You’ve already accepted the invitation”, said Antonio through numb lips. His mother looked a bit irritated he’d interrupted her long spiel about how this would be a great acquisition for the Kingdom of Spain, but spared him a glance.

“Yes, obviously”, scoffed the queen, no doubt thinking that her son would be at a loss romantically without her help, “it would have been rude to refuse.”

“You accepted an invitation to court a princess without asking me if I was in agreement”, he choked out, “and all you can think about is how it would benefit us? Am I your son or a pawn in your conquest, mother?” He looked near tears and his mother felt a pang of guilt. She had been thinking with her crown not her head and hurt her only son. She sighed before speaking.

“While I am the queen and the prosperity of the kingdom is important to everyone” she began, ignoring the hurt look etched on her son’s downcast face for a minute, “I am, first and foremost, your mother.” Antonio looked up; he tried to keep his face blank while his mother spoke.

“However, know this, my son” she said warningly. She drew herself straight and proud, her careful royal image back firmly in place, “you are the prince of Spain, and as such represent the people. Please consider this proposal.” Antonio tuned her out for a bit.

Did this mean he would be able to pursue the girl he had somehow become infatuated with in the span of ten minutes without the pressures of the kingdom on his shoulders? He had no idea how he had become so enamored by a girl he had never met, yet he knew she was the one. He would accept the invitation, but he would have to make it clear to his power-hungry mother that it wasn’t for the kingdom. He mumbled something, catching his mother’s attention who was still attempting to persuade him into accepting the offer.

“What?” she looked at him with raised eyebrows, had she heard right?

Antonio cleared his throat and spoke louder, bracing himself for the inevitable.

“I said, what is her name?” He fidgeted a little while his mother’s cool façade melted away once more and a smile rushed to her face.

“So you’ll do it?” she asked excitedly. Antonio looked at the painting and made his decision. He hoped his heart was right.

“Yes, I will,” said Antonio resolutely, “not for the kingdom, but because I think I can truly love her.” He looked back to his mother at this, a strange fire burning in his eyes she recognized as passion.

“Then I shall make the proper arrangements and have Mr. Di Angelo double his time with you. You will succeed, my son”, she embraced him firmly, not bothering with her stuffy act anymore, “you are, after all, your father’s son and he did great things. Just as you will, my darling.” Her eyes misted, but she kept a firm grip on her son to prevent him from seeing her tears.

“Her name is Romina Vargas. Remember it! Now, run along” she sang with happiness and released him, no trace of sadness on her face, “and I’ll make the preparations for your trip; Mr. Di Angelo will come in a couple of hours so that you may brush up on your Italian.”

Antonio blinked a few times and let the information process in his mind. He gave his mother a sunny smile and a respectful bow before exiting the room in a hurry. The guards on the outside of the door saluted him as he raced off to his study. He had to finish his letter as soon as possible and give his friend the exciting news.

He could tell this was going to be an uphill battle on a slippery slope but hopefully his heart was right and it would be worth it; he was so smitten with this princess and he hadn’t even met her yet. That would be remedied soon though.

He opened the door to his study, a strange feeling of vigor electric in his veins.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> i feel like i'll never be able to finish this.. but i've outlined everything and have the rough chapters of everything...  
> anyway, moving from ff to ao3


End file.
